Untitled for now
by Scooter
Summary: The Dread Pirate Roberts has continued plundering into the 24th Century...but who is he now? And who's The Bride?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Disclaimer:

Not mine, save original characters and the situations. Star Trek belongs to CBS, Paramount, and was created by Gene Roddenberry. The Dread Pirate Roberts and various situations that may be discussed belong to S. Morgenstern, as abridged by William Goldman.

Author's notes (with TPB spoilers):

The plot devices within this story assume that Westley and Buttercup did indeed truly escape Prince Humperdink, Inigo Montoya becomes The Dread Pirate Roberts (and Westley's successor), continues the tradition of naming their successors upon retirement, and that the Dread Pirate Roberts continues into the 24th Century, as the most feared pirate plundering the spacelanes.

This plot takes place in the Original Timeline, but will use the JJ-verse stardate convention.

I'm also ignoring how Orions were characterized in **Enterprise** , preferring the more traditional TOS treatment.

SD 2370.171

Starship _Revenge_

" _Wesley, can I see you in my cabin_ ," Roberts' voice echoed through the _Revenge_ 's intercom system. Saluting his sparring partner, Wesley put up his drill saber and headed for Roberts' cabin, toweling off on the way. Pausing at Roberts' door, he pressed the the chime. " _Enter_ ," and did as bade.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Wesley, it's been five years since I first brought you aboard as my valet. After that botched raid on Fool's Hope where Chidon died, I promoted you to my second. And now, I'm promoting you again.

"Wesley, my lad, it's time I retired. But before I do, I'm going to let you in on a secret...I am not the Dread Pirate Roberts. My name is actually Hammond. I took the name from my predecessor, whose name was 'Cumberpatch'. Its a tradition that goes back to the buccaneer heroes, sailing the seven seas on Earth.

"Its the name, you see, Wesley. No one would surrender to the Dread Pirate Hammond or Cumberpatch. But they'll surrender after the first volley if it's the Dread Pirate Roberts attacking them. Even the Ferengi and Orions fear the name. We're going to put into Uthepra and pay off the crew. It is, after all, tradition as well."

Wes sat uncomfortably in the center seat of the _Revenge_. He'd very rarely taken it during Hammond's tenure as the Dread Pirate Roberts, and it didn't quite fit him. Of course, it also didn't seem like his crew fit him, either. His second officer was a Romulan on the run, a drunk at tactical, a Tellerite security chief with a penchant for John Wayne characterizations, a third officer with the same last name, a Vulcan doctor, and a wild Irishman down in engineering. The _Revenge_ , had cleared the starport and was cruising on impulse towards the edge of Uthepran space. "Mala," Wes said, "set course for the Gittai system. Warp 7. Engage when we've cleared the outer marker."

"Warp 7 to the Gittai system. We are clearing the outer marker now." With a couple of taps on the console, the ship leapt into warp.

Sitting next to the _Revenge_ in the Gittai system was the just recently captured passenger liner SS _Alexandra_. Standing in an observation lounge, Wes watched as the _Revenge_ 's shuttles transferred cargo and captured personal belongings to the pirate ship. He hadn't been really thrilled as he ordered the crew and passengers into the ship's common areas, and had his crew secure and override the locking mechanisms. He watched Hammond's reflection against the transparent aluminium viewport enter and walk up to him. "A successful first raid, Wesley," he said.

"Yes, it was."

"You're disturbed about killing those passengers, Wesley, when we've finished plundering her and the warp core overloads."

"Yes, I am. I know we're pirates, but we need a more ethical means of ensure 'no survivors' when we capture and plunder."

"You're still thinking like a Starfleet officer, Wes. I thought 5 years as a pirate would have beaten that out of you."

Wes chuckled. "Yeah, I know."

"What about slavers and pirates?"

"They get no mercy. Their 'cargo' is seized and released, and they get long walk out a short airlock."

Hammond nodded. "And if the cargo is Orion women?"

"They're still seized. I want you to quietly search through the databases. The Vulcan religious orders have rehabilitation programs for former slaves."

"You thinking of being the 'Dread Privateer Roberts'? And you realize that the crew isn't going to like it"

"Of course not. As long as there's latinum and precious stones in the hold, the crew won't have an issue. A wealthy crew is a happy crew. You taught me that." Hammond nodded. "Have Mala find us an abandoned outpost somewhere nearby. Close enough to the shipping lanes, but far enough that we can hide."

Wes had turned his attention back to the _Alexandra_. The last of the shuttles had cleared away, and the _Revenge_ was slowly moving away as the passenger liner's hull plates began to bulge, then erupt in plasma, flame and spewing atmosphere as the core overloaded. "Understood, Wes," Hammond said as he left the observation lounge.

~~~~~~~  
SD 2370.185  
Cinder Station

The _Revenge_ cruised up towards the darkened outpost, as it orbited between the system's white dwarf and the debris cloud. Wes stood in front of the viewscreen, looking over the old asteroid mining station turned defense post. Starfleet hadn't even bothered stripping the weaposn when they abandoned this station. Whether the links to the fusion reactors were still in place, only once they were aboard and investigating would they know.

"Well," Hammond asked, as the pirate ship glided to a halt near the station.

"I like it. We're above galactic plane, but close to shipping lanes within the three empires, and Starfleet has probably completely forgotten about this place. We can hide our captured ships within the debris cloud. Have Padraig send an engineering team over."

"And about the other thing, we're close to several Vulcan monasteries that would be willing to assist us in that reintegration matter," Hammond said quietly.

"Good," Wes replied, just as quietly.

"Engineering team's beaming now," Javait called from one of the ancillary stations that ringed the upper bridge deck. "Pulling up tactical schematic on the main screen." The screen changed from the darkened station to a wireline diagram, with pinpoints indicating the engineering party. There was other information on the screen next to the wireline, but the bridge crew were intent on the five dots that made up the party.

"Dark abandoned station orbiting a white dwarf, no lifeform readings other than our own team. If I didn't know better, this has all the hallmarks of a cheesy horror movie," Wes commented, watching the diagram shift as the boarding party moved further along through the station. There were some nervous chuckles around the bridge, as a few of the crew got it. "So much for breaking the tension."

"Captain, I've got Mr. O'Finn on the link."

"On audio."

Padraig's thick brogue rang out over the bridge speakers. " _Cap'n. We've gotten down to the engineering plant. The solar batteries are serviceable, so we ken fire up them up. The fusion reactors, dear god these are ancient, have barely enough reactant to fire up, let alone provide power; most of the reactant tanks are drier than Tarelton's flask after a shoreleave bender. Life support's offline, there's ice on some of the panels._ "

"Those solar batteries aren't going to provide power long one we take possession of the station."

" _Aye, I know that boyo. We'll have to refuel the station from the_ Revenge, _and make taking a tanker a priority so that we can refuel both._ "

Wes nodded thoughtfully, even though Padraig couldn't see him. "We'll do so. Get power and life support operational. Then we'll go tanker hunting. And Padraig, I want you and JB to look into converting the decks above the greenhouse into...long term holding facilities. We'll discuss the reasons why when you get back onboard."

" _Righto. Miller, go throw that massive switch. And for Murphy's sake, don't stand on that patch of ice when you do it..."_ Padraig cut the link from his end.

"Javait, Tarelton- see if we can remote in to flight traffic control services from here. Find us a tanker convoy. Klingon or Federation, doesn't matter. Frank, get down to Engineering and rig for refueling. Once Padraig has power back up on the station, we'll refuel his indicated tanks." Wes stood. "Let's get our new home port up and running folks." Marker lights feebly began to blink against the glare of the white dwarf, as the master circuit breaker was closed.

~~~~~~~  
Stardate 2370.186  
0245 hours, local 

Wes lay in bed tossing and turning on the null-g mattress, tormented by dreams of the family he'd left on the _Arcadia_ , when he headed off to deal with affairs of the Ranch. Usually, they were a shadowy shape, familiar yet unfamiliar in a way, followed by a flash of light, and empty quarters. A chime at his door brought him out of his nightmares. "Enter," he called sleepily.

Padraig entered still in his environmental suit, his hair sweat slicked down, and sat heavily on the seat in front of Wes's desk. "Station's got power now. Number 3 fusion reactor is chugging along like the day she was built, but the other 3 reactors...och, they'll need to be torn down and rebuilt. Life support's functional, but there's this stink like something died in the ventilators and just started rottin' again. It'll take a few more hours for it to clear out...I think. Gravity generators are at 25% and coming up slowly."

"Thanks Padraig Go get some sleep. We'll talk about the station when you're better rested."


	2. Chapter 2

ST 2371.204

Celindi Nebula 

_Revenge_ sat just within the Celindi Nebula, a remote sensor pod transmitting telemetry to the pirate ship. This cruise had been successful so far, capturing three cargo transports loaded with goods from Betazed and Trill, fine art from Louvre on Federation tour, and the _piece de resistance_ a Ferengi Marauder carrying the personal baggage and wine cellar of the Grand Nagus. Wes missed his predecessor's guidance, but Hammond was busy enjoying his retirement on Epsilon Minos.

" _Captain Roberts to the bridge. Captain Roberts, please report to the bridge_ ," Tarelton Clements announced over the ship's intercom.

Wes's eyes split open, as his hand groped for the communications stud. "What is it Tarelton?"

" _Captain, we're getting sensor telemetry of an unmarked, unidentified freighter. There's also a sensor echo that appears to be a neutron surge. The target vessel is closing on our position._ "

"Alright. Sound quarters, let's go get number four." Wes finished pulling on his uniform for the raids- the black pants and shirt, his black bandana and his black mask. Leaving his quarters, Wes buckled his sword and phaser pistol around his waist.

"Battlestations manned and ready," Tarleton announced from the tactical station, as Wes exited the lift. "Phasers and photon torpedoes armed and ready"

"JB," he asked settling down in the center seat.

"Boarding parties at the transporter rooms."

Wes leaned forward, his right elbow and left hand resting on their armrests. "Take us in. Stand by hailing frequencies." Nebular gases and dust swirled around the _Revenge_ 's spherical prow as the pirate ship exited her camouflaged hide. Immediately the freighter began an evasive course away from the _Revenge_ as her consort, an Orion dreadnought, rematerializing from behind her obsolescent cloak. "Primary target is that dreadnought. Disable the freighter if you can get a clean shot in, but take down that dreadnought."

"Aye," Tarleton shouted, as the bridge rocked from the dreadnought's fire. Phasers and torpedoes barely made a dent. "Gavret, get behind them and stay there."

"Will do," the second shift helmsman shouted, as he swung the smaller ship behind the dreadnought. Tarleton concentrated the _Revenge_ 's phasers and forward photon torpedo tubes on the dreadnought.

The dreadnought's aft weapons arrays pummeled the _Revenge_ 's shields. Albeit weakened, a plasma torpedo collapsed the forward shields. Several disruptor bolts laced into her starboard nacelle, rupturing it. The unmarked freighter accidentally wandered into the firing arc of the _Revenge_ 's aft torpedoes, Tarleton lobbed a quartet, three of which impacted harmlessly against its shields. The fourth detonated against a drive ring, knocking it off. The freighter continued to limp away, trailing plasma from the venting structure.

The dreadnought tried gamely to get on the _Revenge_ 's tail, before it's captain decided to cut his losses and run.

"Signal the freighter- 'This is the Dread Pirate Roberts. Lower your shields, heave to, and prepare to be boarded.'"

"Captain Roberts, I've got their reply signal...um, it might be better if you listen."

"On speakers, then."

" _Alu lu'vith biu cretok!_ "

"Ok. Sounds like they want the hard way." Wes hit the comm stud on his command seat's armrest. "JB, your boarding parties are go. Quarter to any that ask. Otherwise, do your worst." Wes stood, adjusted his sabre and phaser. "Mr Tarleton, the ship is yours," he said as he entered the lift.

Wes beamed on to the bridge of the freighter with a detachment of the _Revenge_ 's assault troops, drawing his sabre as he dematerialized. The freighter's captain, a portly Orion male was just getting up as Wes placed the tip of his blade against his throat.

"Surrender your ship."

"Val'kyroc? Usstan nauxahuu... _gerk_ …" Noting that the captain was about to refuse, he slid his blade into the Orion male's neck, as the others on the bridge raised their hands away from their weapons.

"Put me on intraship." One of the pirates hit a couple of buttons on the panel and nodded. Wes cleared his throat and said: "Nindol zhah l'Qos Op'elg Roberts. Dosst venta'kyorl zhah elghinyrr. Fre'sla harl lu'vrine'winith malarin. Boarders of the _Revenge_ , contact the bridge when practicable." Clearing his throat again, Wes turned to the pirates with him. "Damn, I really hate speaking Orion."

Amid chuckles, JB's voice came up on the intercom. " _Wes, you better come down to the cargo holds. We've got...issues with the cargo._ "

Behind his mask, Wes arched an eyebrow. "What kind of issues?"

" _You'd just better get down here._ "

"Selshu, take charge up here. Bring the freighter alongside the _Revenge_."

Wes made his way below, and as he got closer his nose was being overwhelmed by the scent of exotic perfumes and incense. JB and a number of his security force stood outside the doors, with several sporting bruises. "What happened to you?"

"There's one wildcat in there, Wes. Real brawler. And given the cargo, we didn't want to go back in phasers blazing."

"Understandable, JB," Wes drew his sword again, and stood by the blast doors. "Clubs and flats of swords, pistols on stun only." He nodded "Open the doors." One of the boarders keyed the doors open; Wes leading the party in. The _Revenge_ 's security detail held their weapons at the ready, but the cargo of flesh held back. Wes advanced, his sword shifting the silken gauze out of his way, moving further into the harem.

One of the slaves dove out of an alcove, a dagger flashing in the dim lighting of the chamber, the blade driving deep into the bicep of Wes' sword arm. With a growl, Wes struck her with the hilt of his sword. Watching her crumple to the deck, he moved deeper into the harem, working with the security detail to clear it of other potential threats.

"Captain! A wee moment of your time," Padraig called down the corridor. He caught up to Wes, and continued on, even without waiting for his assent, his Belfast dockyards brogue thick. "We've got the warp nacelle functional, but the strain on th' injectors is gonna be a crucial factor. I dinna think we can get her up past Warp 5. Not at least without a drydock and refit. This ship's seen the last o' her days, I think." To lend weight to Padraig's statement, one of the GNDN conduits erupted into a shower of sparks as the corridor lights blinked on, off, and back on.

Wes scrubbed his hand through his short hair, his bandanna and mask tucked into his pistol belt. "What else is wrong with her?"

"Everything, Cap'n. Especially if ye're gonna be taking on dreadnoughts like a barmy fellow. If anything, I'd rather build a new ship from the keel up."

"And that would take what, years? Years we don't have."

"Aye, that's true, Cap'n. But I'll still need parts and materials to do so."

"Raiding a Starfleet scrapyard in the future?"

"Aye, that it is. While I'd love to get my hands on a Romulan AQS, trying ta integrate it with the Federation tech will be a right nightmare."

Wes nodded, letting Padraig's technobabble fly over his head as they walked towards his cabin. When Wes had been a Starfleet officer, he'd been Security and not engineering. They may have worn the same colors, but they weren't the same specialty tracks. "When we get back to Cinder Station, draw up what you need to 'acquire'. And we'll proceed from there."

"Thanks, Cap'n."

Wes nodded, and entered his cabin. As soon as the doors slid open, he detected the same exotic perfumes he had aboard the freighter. "What are you doing here," he asked, tossing his bandanna and mask on the desk before hanging his belt on a wall hook. "And how did you get in here?"

Meralle shifted seductively on the bed. "When you killed Nallid, you won me, as I was his. As for how I got in here, I asked your Tellerite after being treated in your sickbay."

Wes just rubbed his forehead, as he sank into a chair. "Christ, I don't need this right now."

Getting up off the null-g bed, Meralle walked over, and began working the tension out of Wes' shoulders. "Why do you say that?"

Wes stood and moved away from his chair. Leaning casually against the bulkhead, he replied. "Where do you want me to begin? You're the one who led the harem revolt against my men after we captured your ship. You stuck me in the arm with a dagger. And yet, here you are trying to seduce me; so color me both jaded and suspicious if you want to."

The slave girl pouted cutely, spun the chair around, and sat down. "After you'd left, I talked to one of the other girls, a Vulcan by the name of T'Mir. She'd claimed that she'd been a Starfleet medical officer, and well, I could see that she had some medical training, since she usually took care of us. She calmed me down after you'd left, and we talked while she took care of my broken jaw. Basically, she was telling me to calm down, think about what had happened critically and without emotion."

"And did you?"

"I did, and I decided that no matter what happened to the rest of the girls in the harem, I'd rather be with you. Preferably as your lover but even just as your companion would suffice." Wes barely kept from rolling his eyes. "If you'll have me."

"What's your name, girl?"

"Meralle. And courtesy requires I know yours as well."

"Wesley Roberts, at your service." He bowed curtly. "You'll still have to pull your weight around here. There are no passengers on my ship."

"I understand."

Wes nodded. "Good." He hit the communications stud on the desk. "Bridge."

" _Bridge, Javait here._ "

"Is the slave ship secure, and ready to get underway? And has Padraig appraised you of our situation?"

" _It is, Captain. Prize crew has completed repairs under Mr. Roberts._ "

"Signal Mr Roberts, and get us underway ourselves. Best speed to Cinder Station."

" _Aye, Captain_."

Wes sat down at his desk, Meralle trying to curl into the antique thermoplastic seat on the other side. "So...what are we going to do with you?"

"What are you plans for my sisters? Are you planning to sell them into slavery?"

Wes chortled. "Of course not. Once we return to Cinder Station, we'll be taking care of them. Any that wish to remain, we'll allow."

"Well then, I can be your liaison between Nallid's harem and your crew. What, exactly, are your plans for them?"

"Freedom, along with any other slave ships we capture. We'll be working with several Vulcan monasteries to retrain and reeducate them. Before you ask, non-Orion slaves will not be released, since I _am_ the Dread Pirate Roberts."

"The whole 'take no prisoners'?"

"Of course. Once word spreads that I've captured prisoners and have gone soft, it's nothing but work, work, work."

"So why are you letting Orions go?"

"It's because, and don't take offense to this, who's going to believe a slave? And by the time the girls are released from the monasteries, we'll be just a memory." Wes stifled a yawn. "Besides, I abhor slavery, and to keep them around would be too much like it." Meralle nodded, not quite understanding Wes' logic. "If you'll excuse me, it's been a long, trying late night."

"Um...Wesley, when I asked your security chief where your quarters were, I think he meant that I was to remain here; I don't have anywhere else to go."

Wes sighed, and began rummaging through his drawers and tossed Meralle an oversized t-shirt. "Here. Later, you'll have separate quarters assigned to you."


End file.
